


Faustian Flora

by petalSpitter



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Action, Angst, Body Horror, Flowey being evil, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mainly Hurt, Now featuring cameos of everyones favorite scientist, Possession, Spoilers, get ready for some HARDCORE ANGST
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-02 16:02:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5254538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petalSpitter/pseuds/petalSpitter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Flowey spots a chink in Frisk's armor he decides to exploit it in a brand new, terrifying way. Now with his brother gone, it's up to Papyrus and Undyne to stop his rampage and rescue the human they love. The only question is, will they succeed?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Winter in Faust

**Author's Note:**

> Based off tumblr user Sushinfood's Possession AU. I've already done a comic for this [here](http://petalspitter.tumblr.com/post/133327035936/based-off-sushinfoods-possession-au-silly) (same warnings apply) And decided to do a mini fic... which became a chapter one... going on chapter two.

The Snowdin chill had reached its yearly low, bringing constant wind and snowfall with the longer darkness that fell over the land. The already sleepy town got even sleepier with the chilly incentive to stay inside. It was the one time of year Sans’s laziness was normal, as he liked to joke. Even in milder weather the child shouldn't have been out here, underbrush tangled around their ankles as they hugged themselves. The screaming animal from earlier should have scared them back home.

“Hey Frisk.” Sans shot the child one of his ever-present smiles, waving at them as he stepped on overgrown bramble.“How's it hanging?” He reached up, grabbing a snow dusted branch and hanging off it. Frisk doesn't turn around. "I heard something and had to do a 'patrol'. Sentry rules, am I right?"

Sans furrows his brow bone, stepping closer. Isn’t that cute? They were wearing Papyrus’s scarf as a headband. Kid’s ears must have gotten cold.

“Hey? Frisk? Did I interrupt some Napstablook worthy spacing out?” More time passes. “...Ooor not interrupt since you're still pretty... Spaced out...” There's nothing but the sound of wind running through the plant matter poking through the snow.

“Fri-?” They turn around, and his heart drops right out of his ribcage.

Vines have grown over their face, wrapping around every contour and dipping their roots into any crevice they could find. Frisk’s hand is pinned to their left eye, yellow petals and green vines peeking out from the spaces between their fingers. “Sans...” Their voice is thin as a wire and high-pitched.

“I think I made a mistake...”

“I DIDN’T DO THIS SOONER!” It's not Frisk’s voice. It's not their laugh as they rip away their hand and that thing shoots Sans a cyanide smile.

 

* * *

 

Flowey couldn’t believe how oblivious this kid was. He’d been stalking them for an hour’s worth of watching them poke things with that stick, or dance around like a moron, or throw snowballs at trees and they still hadn’t noticed. Ugh. The plant was about to bash his head in from boredom.

What happened to their running through the Underground, holding their stick tightly and throwing on whatever would afford them the most protection from the barrage of attackers? Or the times when they’d never stop walking, always dead set on seeing Asgore? Flowey had seen them walk into the golden corridor and waited for them in the throne room... Only for them to never arrive. He must have waited an entire day based off how many times his d- How many times King Asgore watered the flowers.

How could the brat get cold feet when the end was just within reach?

Flowey got an idea.

“Howdy!” The plant popped out of the ground right in front of the human, wearing his biggest and brightest smile. “Say, kiddo, you’ve been in the Underground a while now, haven’t you?” They step back, one hand holding their stick with white knuckles and the other going toward their scarf. (It was a ‘gift’ from one of the idiotic skeletons. Flowey was sure the child was only trying to hide the heart locket beneath.)

“My my, no other human’s survived this long before! Might as well pat yourself on the back!” He waits, smile never faltering. “Well?! Do it you-!” The child’s eyes peel open in surprise and they reluctantly untangle their hand from the scarf, patting their shoulder.

“Yes, yes, just like that! Gooooood... But don’t celebrate yet! You’ve been here so long...” Flowey bows his head, face shrouded in shadows. “Your own determination has waned. And soon-” His seems to drop several octaves, gritty and rough. “I WILL RECLAIM MY PLACE AS PRINCE OF THIS WORLD.”

Frisk jolts back, grasping their scarf (and the miniscule chain beneath). Hook, line, and sinker. They really were an idiot!

“I’ll kill them all. I’ll make you watch as the Underground fills with dust. I’ll rip away everything you love... Unless...” Flowey bows his head low to hid his smile, facing Frisk again only when he can relax the corners of his mouth. ”You make a deal with me. Then I’ll be sure to spare your friends.”

They gulp. Exhale. Grasp their scarf a bit harder. Shift in place on pale legs (Not even determination can account for how they play in the snow long after their skin is clammy and white.) Flowey can practically hear the gears turning in their head. God, these hero types were so gullible.

“It’s sad but true! You’ve gotten complacent stay here, talking to the local monsters, sleeping on a couch or in an inn bed, playing with that monster child... You’ve lost your spark! And soon I’ll reign over this domain again!” He throws on an evil smile, chuckling darkly as fear washes over the child’s face.  
  
“I-....” Frisk takes a deep breath, a shiver running down their back. “I.... I’ll do it. Just please don’t hurt them.” A sense of dread washes over Frisk, like someone had poured lead into their veins.

 

“NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! YOU IDIOT!” A jagged smile rips across the flower’s face as thorny vines rip out of the earth. Frisk gasps and tries to run, but it’s far too late. “Ahhh-ugh!” They hit the snow face-first, thorns digging into their waxy calves. “Flowey?! Flowey what- what are you doing?!” Frisk tries to pry off the vines, pained hisses escaping their teeth as the thorns dig into their skin. The vines grow and curl around the child’s limbs until they’re forced to jerk their hands away, reaching for the stick and hoping they can fight this off.

“I have a wonderful idea, Frisk! How about I take all that determination of yours” The flower hovers inches over Frisk’s face, drinking up the fear in their eyes. “And I know just the way to do it!” Vines wrap tight around their wrists and he lunges for their left eye.

 

* * *

 

Back at the sentry post, Sans can’t help but notice all the birds flying away from some distant yell.


	2. Briar Waltz

“Holy sh- FRISK!” Sans’s eyes go wide, body frozen at the sight of his friend in such a gruesome state. He can't think, his mind stuttering as he tries to cobble together a resemblance of a rational explanation for why this was happening and how to save them.

Frisk gurgles and stumbles, tripping over their own feet and hitting the ground hard. The bramble around the fallen child swelled with new growth, green buds dotting the branches and exploding into fresh leaves as vines ripped out of the earth and wrap themselves around Frisk’s limbs, pulling them up to their feet. The child looks like a broken puppet with with green strings clinging to their limbs, head only held up by the tendrils peeling  away from their scalp to join their larger brethren.

“Golly! It seems we have a potty mouth on our hands! And not only that-!” Flowey smiles from his vantage point rooted in Frisk’s left eye.

The underbrush around San’s feet grows wildly. “It’s the meddling time traveler!” Bramble starts wrapping around his ankles, the thin tendrils easily snapped with a jerk of his foot.

“DO YOU KNOW HOW WE DEAL WITH MONSTERS LIKE YOU?” Flowey’s smile grows ragged and dark, a cackling laugh echoing through the trees as thorny vines shoot out of the ground like spikes.

“Fuck-!” Sans rapidly backtracks, losing a slipper as he tries not to get entangled in the rapidly growing maze of flora. “Fris-AUGH!” He feels his arm jerk up as a spike catches his coat, stuffing flying everywhere as he jumps away.

“FRISK?!” The brambles grow faster underfoot, forcing him further and further away from the child. “FRISK! H-hold on!” Thorny spikes slither up the trees around him and weave together, trying to cage him in.

“Alright, you overgrown weed. You want to _dance_? I’ll give you a dance!” In the seconds before he’s enveloped the skeleton’s eye glows cyan. The roughhewn cocoon of vines is burned away by a blast of light, Flowey recoiling in faked pain. “Oooow! Congrats, buddy. You made a fancy little light show.” He rolls his eyes, pantomiming a yawn.

“LET’S SEE YOU REALLY GET THOSE FEET MOVING!” The plants seem to spring to life, lunging at Sans like well trained soldiers and winding around his ankles so fast he had to shoot at his own feet to keep moving. Luckily his magic didn’t hurt the caster, just the flora gone wild trying to entrap said caster.

“Is this your idea of a tango, you overgrown houseplant?!” Sans throws some glowing vines to the side with a wave of his hand, throwing down tracks of bones to tear up a path to Frisk.

It’s not enough. New plant life writhes under the snow as fresh vines pop out of the earth, nicking and nearly impaling the skeleton more times than he can count. The once pesky tendrils are now as thick as ropes and just as hard to get free from. Sans churns the earth with an array of bone attacks and fills the air with cyan light. The cloudy sky is nearly blotted out by the vines strangling and hanging between the trees, the melody of lasers cutting through the tangle barely making a dent anymore.

“C-come on, I can’t-! I can’t lose here!” He lets out a desperate, animalistic sound, throwing bones at the vines in wild arcs and incinerating the encroaching plant life with as many Gaster Blasters as he could summon before his body ached with an agonizing fire. For a few seconds his world is nothing but light and the roar of destruction. Then deafening silence.

Sans has to blink back some of the worst after images he’s ever experienced. The sharp pain in his head... Eh, no use trying to blink that away.

Then Sans finally noticed. He’d done it. He’d carved up a clear path. A clear path right to Frisk! Without a moment’s hesitation Sans beelines toward the human child, arm outstretched toward them.

“Frisk! Frisk I’m here! I’m right h- HAUGH!” He can’t breath. Sans’s hand shakes and slowly sinks as he looks down. A massive spiked vine was sticking out of his chest, his ribs knocked aside like loose teeth.“Y-you... cruel bastard...” He holds onto the spike, knees growing weak.

“Welp. Looks like this is... _curtains_ for me, Frisk.” Sans goes limp and fades to dust, his torn up coat still hanging on the spike and dancing in the breeze.

“You idiot!” Flowey let out a laugh like broken glass, the plant matter grown by his magic withering and atrophying away. All but the vine with that meddler’s coat. “Oh goody! I've been wanting to do that for a while! Ah... The things you can do with a human soul!” He smiled sweetly, bitter memories running through his head.


	3. Prelude to Gretchen's Promise

“Lazybones! First he doesn’t  answer my call about the noise, then he doesn’t answer my calls about why he hasn’t answered my calls, and to top it off he’s not even at his post!” Papyrus grumbled to himself. “I’d forgive him if he was napping at his post, at least he’d _be_ at his post. But this?” More grumbling, and the taller skeleton calls out his brother’s name, phalanges cupped to his jawbone.

“SAAANS?! Sans, are you there?! Sa-?!” He spots footprints in the snow. Undyne must have spent a solid two weeks just on the complexities of footprints when he asked to be trained. Based off the lack of a tread and the closeness of the steps they had to be his brother’s. Papyrus starts following the tracks as they head deeper into the woods.

“What in the world?” The trees were tied up by withered vines that definitely couldn’t grow this deep in Snowdin and marks from... something. Papyrus makes a mental note, worry crawling up his spine as he followed the tracks. “Sans?! Sans are you out here?! If this is a prank, it’s not very funny!”

He presses on, growing more apprehensive as the once flat and pristine snow gives way to half melted snow and patches of damp mud. The vines give way to scorched bark, and the marks grow deeper and more numerous. Soon he’s got raw fear sitting heavy in his bones, on edge and walking on eggshells as the forest floor fully turns to mud.

“Sans...?” The sound of fabric flapping in the wind caught his attention and he jumps. “Sans, you-! You....” At the epicenter of the scorched trees and lumpy mud was his brother’s coat hanging off a thorny vine, waving in the wind as a fine layer of dust caught the glow of the stars.

“SANS?! Th-this isn’t funny! SANS?!” He whips his head around, wishing his brother would _just come out now ha ha very funny joke’s over_. “SANS?!” He feels like his bones are made of lead, like he’s been stuffed with something heavy and bitter and his own grief will choke him to death where he stands.

His face warps into an ugly frown, eyes aching as tears start to bead up. “Sans...?” In a daze Papyrus takes a step toward the coat, feeling like he’s just been slapped. “No... No. No. No. No no no! NO! PLEASE! ...Please tell me this isn’t real! This- th-this is- Oh god...”

The skeleton falls to his knees in front of the pseudo-tombstone and wails in pain. Time seems to stand still as he’s blinded by his own tears and deafened by his own cries. It takes him forever to stop drowning in his sorrow, slowly running out of tears, slowly growing too sore to scream. “S-sans... Y-you were the best brother I ever had.”

Papyrus sits up and takes a deep breath, reaching for his scarf before remembering he’d loaned it to Frisk. “Oh...” He wonders where they are for a second, then lets the thought go, assuming they were safe in Snowdin.

 _Snowdin._  Filled with all those people that could get hurt just like Sans if he didn’t do anything. With shaking hands he fished his phone out of his ribcage, each breath feeling like a nail in a coffin.

“U-undyne... something terrible has h-happened... You need to come to Snowdin woods right away.” The Captain of the Royal Guard tries to pry more information out of him, but he can’t find the words. “I-I’m sorry.”

“Papyrus? Papyruuus? PAPYRUS?! Papyrus, did you seriously just hang up on me?!” He’d never hung up on her before! He never even hung up on telemarketers! The Captain gets on her armor in record time, running down the length of the Underground faster than the ferrier could ever hope to sail their boat.

 

* * *

 

“PAPYRUS?! SANS?! Ugh... I swear if all this happened because that big boned idiot left his post... PAPYRUS?! WHERE ARE YOU?!” Her voice booms through the forest, bouncing off scorched trees and sailing over swaths of muddy ground. “PAP- Papyrus?” Undyne spots him kneeling on the ground before a coat on a vine, hands over his mouth and head bowed steeply. “Oh no...” Her face falls, speed walking up to the shredded coat and rubbing the fabric between her fingers. 

It was a texture she’d never felt. She’d heard to described a thousand times before in stories that felt far-away and fairytalesque, even if they had solemn toned chapters in the history books. A fine, semi-sticky powder that always magically held together just long enough for a funeral.

“Oh no...” The light chill on her armor suddenly felt like frostbite, and her chest got tight as the realization hit her like a warhammer. “I’m so sorry...” She wasn’t sure if she was apologizing for insulting the dead monster, or to the one who’d lost him.

As the pair had mourning the mud slithered, vines slowly growing underneath the cover of filth, waiting for the perfect moment...

In the blink of an eye vines thick with thorns rip themselves from earth, lunging for the Captain of the Royal Guard before-

“UNDYNE!” Papyrus threw his arm out in an arc, throwing a wave of bones at the vines and shredding them. The Captain snaps into action, summoning a spear and whipping around to attack the sudden crowd of living vines. Papyrus joins in with some difficulty, back to back with her and beating back the blood-hungry flora with whatever attacks he could summon.

“What the hell is going on here?!” She growls, filling the air with cyan light and the flying points of her spears. Near the edge of the clearing a small, yellow shape pops out of a mound, smiling petal to petal. The vines cease their assault and the two guards turn their attention to the flower.

“Howdy!” Papyrus feels his marrow freeze. “Golly! I didn’t think that anyone would waste their time looking for that meddler, much less _The Great Papyrus_ and _Undnye the Undying_! Don’t you have anything better to do?”

He smiles brightly, ands keeps smiling brightly even as Undyne points a fiercely glowing spear at them. “I owe you a _huge thanks_ Papyrus, for giving me a chance to test out my new strength a second time!” Flowey’s smile is pointed at Papyrus like a loaded gun.

“You... know this thing?” Undyne looks accusingly at the skeleton for a split second, then turns back to the flower.

“Er, not exactly.” Papyrus uneasily looks toward the flower, feeling like his bones are made of lead and ice. “F-Flowey.... Y-you... you didn’t really-”

“Didn’t really tear your brother to screaming pieces?” Flowey’s expression turns warped and grim, a wicked laugh tumbling from his maw.

Undyne gasps, eye widening as her grip on her spear gets tighter.“THAT’S IT YOU WEED! YOU’RE DEAD!” She lunging forward, spear aimed right at the flower’s head.

“Undyne, wait!” Bony hands wrap around her bicep, knocking her off balance and causing her to stumble back. Her face smears into an ugly glare, lips parting to spit acid at the trainee-

“Hehehehehe! Gee, Papyrus, aren’t you lucky? If you hadn’t stopped her she just might have killed the human!”

The Captain whips her head back to Flowey, lip pulled up in a sneer. Papyrus feels a morbid anticipation he hopes has no payoff. “What?! The human?”

“The idiot human right here!” The ‘mound’ Flowey had been perching on was suddenly yanked up by a chorus of vines and held in the air like a broken marionette. Frisk was soaked in mud head to toe, clothes hanging off them like they’d been woven out of lead.  Flowey’s roots sunk deep into the child’s left eye and snaked in and out of their pale, waxy skin. Their hair was a nest of mud-soaked clumps, pale roots rising and sinking back into the mess, and strands that looked far too red to be the child’s usual brunette. The only sign they were alive was their shiver and the subtle rise of their chest with each shaky breath before the vines give way and they smack into the mud.

“FRISK!”

“KID!”

Both of the guards panic at the sight, rushing toward the child before a wall of thorny vines bursts from the earth. “Oh ho ho ho ho! Did you really think it’d be that easy?” Flowey chuckles, them rolls his eyes.  “I’m getting sick of smacking you losers up in the cold. If you want to get a taste of my true power in some pathetic gamble of a ‘rescue’-”

“-I’ll be waiting in The Ruins...” He lets out a cackle before retreating underground with Frisk in tow, the wall withering away in seconds.


	4. The Ritual Begins

“That little-!” Undyne summons a spear and stabs it deep into the earth. The head and half the spear’s shaft disappear into the mud, churning it up when she rips it free to stab the spot again and again and again, launching into a curse laden tirade about punishing the flower for what he’d done.

Papyrus watches from the sidelines,face twisting into a wince as the mound begins to resemble a festering wound in the earth. “Undyne...”

“I swear on Asgore’s trident I’ll rip all your petals off one by one and eat them! _Eat them_ , do you hear me?! And while I’m at it I’ll-!”

“Undyne?”

“I’ll burn you! I’ll rip Frisk away from you and burn you alive! And I’ll laugh! I! Will! Laugh! At! Your! Misery!” Each word was punctuated by the summoning of a new spear and its stabbing into the earth. “Oh yes, you noxious thing! I’ll-!”

_“Undyne!”_

“ _WHAT?!_ Oh... Sorry, Papyrus....” The Captain rises, the nest of spears dissipating. She rubs the back of her neck, looking at him, then the coat, then nowhere at all. “Get the coat... just go home and have his funeral. You should spread his dust before the wind does, you know, Pap?” Her shoulders droop as she takes a deep breath.

 

“No.”

 

Her head shoots up, eye as wide as it can go. “ _What?!_ Papyrus?! It’s your own brother’s _funeral!_ You- you  just can’t say no to that!”

“I can’t sit at home knowing that Frisk- _my friend_ \- is out there hurting and in need, either. I already know you’ll try to rescue Frisk. I can fight beside you! I can help you! Barring that I can-... I can talk to Flowey... Maybe he’s willing to-” He winces, trying to dodge the accusing look in Undyne’s eye.

“Just grab the coat. Start walking and talking.“ She turns sharply toward Snowdin, a calculating look on her face. “First. Explain to me this... ‘business’ with the enemy. Then we’ll discuss citizen evacuation and rescue plans, Royal Guardsman.”

“Royal Guardsman?” Papyrus gingerly pulls the coat off the thorny vine, a phantom pain stabbing right through his chest, and jogs to catch up with the captain.

“Undyne! You called me a Royal Guardsman! D-does that mean- did you really mean- Am I in?!” Papyrus’s face lit up, the joyus feeling not reaching his chest where the dusty coat was pressed.

The woman stops in her tracks, the skeleton nearly ramming into her pauldrons. “After today, I don’t see a reason why you shouldn’t be...”

She turns, gesturing for Papyrus to kneel in front of her. He does so with practiced ease, bowing his head. (The skeleton had practiced this hundreds of times when his insomnia acted up.) Papyrus had never felt so dazed with excitement in his life, the realization hitting him as Undyne summoned a spear and tapped both his shoulderblades.

“Do you, The Great Papyrus of Snowdin, swear to serve the Dreemurr crown with honor and determination, to protect the hopes of the citizens of the Underground, and to _kick the ass_ of any and all threats against these until dust?”

“I do.” He ate up every word like ambrosia, not noticing he said something more fitting for a wedding vow than an induction. Undyne’s spear disappears, and Papyrus only gets knocked out of his reverie by the sound of her crunching foot steps.

“Now. Tell me about ‘Flowery’.”

“Flowey.”

_“The weed that’s going to pay for all this.”_

Papyrus struggles to collect his thoughts, still feeling like he was made of feathers and air. “Flowey. Well... It began a few months ago. The first time I back in Snowdin, watching out for humans when suddenly a yellow flower popped out of the snow.”

“Pap. I love you. You’re my best friend and best new soldier. But _please_ give me the Reader’s Digest version.”

“Er... Alright.” He let out a sigh, trying to think of how to compress months of interaction into a short enough sentence to please Undyne. “Flowey is... a flower that pops up when I’m alone and talks to me. H- It compliments me, critiques me, tells me stories.  It used to give me instructions for some ‘critical plan’, then told me in a huff that it had failed. Ever since then they- it’s visited me less and less... I never thought it’d do something like this.”

Undyne listens closely, shuddering at the thought of Papyrus getting sweet talked by such a monster.

Along the way Undyne tells every guard dog the pair encounters to begin an evacuation plan to get all the monsters of Snowdin and Waterfall to safety in Hotland. Based off her tone and dusty coat in his arms,  the severity of the situation is easily understood and every guard rushes ahead of the pair to complete their task.

 

* * *

 

By the time they reach the town it’s been whipped up into a frenzy, business owners rushing to batten down the hatches as families count heads and hold tightly to whatever valuables or necessities they decided to take.

Undyne reaches back and grabs Papyrus’s forearm tightly, turning him around and telling him “You can go home for a few minutes if you want. Me and the other Royal Guards can take care of this.”

“Oh? Are- Are you sure?” Papyrus holds the shredded coat closer to his chest.

The Captain shrugs, which he takes as a sign of ‘it’s not regulation, but i’ll let it slide’.

“Th-thank you.” Before another word can pass between them he’s headed for his house as Undyne’s voice booms through main street, passing down orders to lower officers and directly to citizens alike.

The house feels emptier somehow when the door clicks behind him. The walls and carpet had lost their subtle magic of being his _home_ and turned into fixtures of a cold, empty house. “...What did Sans love most?”

Papyrus instantly finds himself thinking of Grillby’s, and all the times he’d trudged over there to tell his brother to get back to work. Granted, Grillby wouldn’t like it if Papyrus walked in and rubbed dust on Sans’s favorite chair.

What about his sentry booth? The lazybo- Sans didn’t even bother to hide how he’d turned it into a mini vacation home. Magazines, condiments, the odd CD or two... Papyrus would have to collect those after all this was done, wouldn’t he? He’d have to pack all evidence of his brother’s life into a cardboard box and throw it into his mess of a room.

His room... Sans didn’t even seem to like his own bedroom. No collections, no books, no trinkets as evidence of a hobby. Recently he only seemed to duck into it to sleep and leave it as soon as he was semi-conscious enough to stumble downstairs for coffee.

Papyrus feels an ache in his chest and looks down. His bones and shirt are glittering with a fine coating of dust that no brush of his hand can remove. “Oh.... never thought of it that way, brother.”

With the funeral ‘held’ there’s no more reason to hold onto the shredded coat, and he drapes it over the couch. Papyrus takes one last look around the living room, feeling like he’s in someone else’s home entirely.

Without fanfare the last living skeleton turns to the door, opening it just as Undyne had raised her fist to pound the door into submission.

“Papyrus! Perfect timing! We’ve got the last few townspeople on a ferry to Hotland- and you’re covered in- oh...” A moment of silence passes between the pair of Royal Guards.

“E-excuse me, I just need to-” Papyrus gestures and Undyne backs up enough for him to close the door.

In the silence of the empty town the click of the lock has an air of finality. 


	5. Gretchen's Promise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, even when I spilt chapters 4 and 5 they still ended up huge.

“Congratulations, you Royal Guardsman, you!” Undyne yelled from the ferry, waving goodbye. “Gerson’ll have to break the bite-sized pieces for your boney butt!” Her lips rip across a maze of snaggly teeth, and the image hangs in his mind’s eye long after they’re gone.

 “Alright... This is it. When I finally become a Guardsman.“ Papyrus takes a deep breath and stands ramrod straight, shoulders pulled back and pride swelling in his ribcage as he heads for the old shop.

“Gerson! You won’t believe it!” He bursts into the cavern, his voice bouncing off carved stone and wooden shelves.

“Huh? Did that Temmie girl get her Ph.D now or something? Gosh darnit, and I was just getting to the best part of that dream...” Gerson slid his heels off the shop counter and sat up, mouth stretching wide in a yawn.

“Undyne inducted me into the Royal Guard!”  

“What?! What in the-?” Gerson shot forward, hands clapping onto the counter, then slacking his shoulder and shaking his head slowly. “You kids these days move so fast...” The elder huffs, sipping a cup of cold tea, making a bitter face, then finishing off the cup.

“She... It happened about an hour ago... It’s a complicated story. Anyway, I need a full set of armor.” Gerson nearly chokes on his tea.

“What in the sam-heck do you need a set of armor for not an hour after your induction?!” The elder slammed his empty cup down onto the table.

”It’s... it’s all been very fast. Two hours ago, Frisk was safe, my brother was alive, and I-”

“I’m going to stop you right there, son. Sans is _dead_?” The veteran gains an air of intensity Papyrus had never seen before. Ancient, cloudy eyes narrowed and had fires lit behind them, wrinkled lips pursed tightly, and the monster’s entire being seemed to go taut with new energy.

“....Undyne and I found his coat in the woods; it was dusty and shredded. Not long after that the... the thing that got to him attacked us. It’s taken Frisk and hidden in the Ruins, we need to rescue them. And soon.”

“What is this thing, Papyrus? And don’t you dare spare the details.”

The memory of Frisk dangling in the air replayed in his mind, sharper than any other memory he had, to the point he could see their muddy hairs and the tendrils that traveled over their skin and held them immobile.

“It.... he was an old friend of mine. I took pity on him because he was lonely, and we would talk.” Papyrus pauses, remembering all the times when he was alone only to be surprised by spot of yellow popping out of the ground. “Upon reflection, though, it was pretty one-sided. He- er, it...” Papyrus’s gaze wandered over the counter, ending with his head bowed and staring at his own gloves. “I don’t know how to describe it.”

“Just do it chronologically, don’t spare any details. S’what my superiors told me in the war.” Gerson pours two cups of tea, sliding one over the counter to Papyrus.

“Okay...” Papyrus replays the memories, turning them over in his mind and breaking them down piece-by-piece. “I’d just finished my own patrol, and called Sans as usual to make sure he was at his post... He always answers before it goes to voicemail, even when he’s sleeping...” Papyrus wanted to add a snarky comment about how ‘I can always tell because he sounds half asleep’, but decided not to speak ill of the dead.

“I instantly knew something was wrong, even if it was as simple as his phone being dead. But when I got there... He wasn’t there... He’s _never_ left his post in the middle of a shift. That was the one good thing about him!” So much for not speaking ill of the dead.

Papyrus launches into a frenzied, breathless rant about the footprints, about the trees and the snow, about the the informal tombstone and how he cried himself raw before calling Undyne.

“A-and the entire time, Flowey never attacked me! Not _once!_ N-not with all the noise I was making a-and the fact I was vulnerable on the ground... He never attacked me until Undyne showed up... Maybe there’s hope for him? There has to be! Everyone, even him, th-they can be a good person if they try, right?” Papyrus looked at the jaded veteran with a begging look, anxiety gnawing at his stomach as he mulled over the story Papyrus told him.

“Sonny, I’m going to ask you a very serious question. After what you saw, are you sure the kid’s alive?” Gerson said his words carefully and measured, each one dropping into the silence of a cavern like a stone.

“I- They have to be! They- They just have to be! Frisk is strong and determined, everyone knows that!” Papyrus babbles, holding his cup tightly.

“You’ve heard the stories about those human mages, haven’t you? Fearsome and strong, able to take just about anything and keep moving. I saw it up close and personal before any of you young folk were even twinkles in your parent’s eyes.” He sighed, the weight of a lifetime of war riding on his exhale. Papyrus opened his mouth to ask a question before he’s cut off by a wave of Gerson’s hand.

“But that’s a _grown_ human. The children are so soft, so tender... Makes me wonder what happens to ‘em all to make them so bitter.... I still remember each and every human I’ve seen. It’s getting harder to do so as the years stretch on and they come less and less often. But I still cling to some memories. I’ll still be holdin’ onto them when I dust.” Gerson rises, seeming to age centuries as he turns around and stares at the keepsakes Frisk had eventually talked him into taking back.

He delicately picks up a pair of cracked spectacles, trying to wipe them clean on his shirt. The lenses bore dozens of scratches from this ritual. “The first one was fragile. Fragilest thing I’d ever seen. They had more bandages on their limbs than a mummy. And they were scared. Scared of everything from the guard dogs to the echo flowers. But they persevered through their injury and fear...” He looks to the side.

“Until I found ‘em. Thinking back, I was just overeager for a fight after losing to the humans. I needed some way to pay for the bruises on my ego. I ran up to her in full armor and yelled-” He shifted into the same pose from all those years ago. “Halt! In the name of King Asgore Dreemurr, I will capture you!”

“Kid was so spooked by me screaming to high heaven they slipped off the edge and into the river. I was flabbergasted! I was expectin’ some monster dusting mage! Not a child so meek they’d be perfect company for the whimsums! I suppose as a sort of punishment... I stood there and watched them drown. I listened to their begging cries without moving a muscle. I could have stomped on their hands. I could have grabbed their wrists and pulled them up. Instead, I just watched...” He delicately set the glasses on top of a worn notebook.

His gaze drifts over to a blue tutu and ballet shoes, tossed on a shelf and mostly forgotten.

“The second one was a br- a little lady in a ballerina outfit. Looked like she should have been as sweet as the King’s firstborn. But she stomped on any creature that got in her way. It wasn’t outright bloodlust, just bullheadedness. Even so-” He stared at the ballet shoes, a coating of dust still clinging to them after all these years.

“I tried to give her a second chance, cornered her right here in Waterfall. After the meek kid I felt like I had to. Like somehow you can make up for lost lives like they're just weights on a scale. I told her all she has to do was swear off striking monsters, and I’d let her go... But she lunged at me, and I raised my hammer...” He pantomimed the action, the rest of the memory playing in his mind's eye.

“I took her to King Asgore in a damp, bloody bag.”

There’s a long silence. Long enough Papyrus feels like he could drown in it and never resurface, stuck in this moment forever.

“Papyrus. I know you. You’re hopeful, you see the best in everything, everyone. But if you crack that door open and fight that... that thing only for the kiddo to be a corpse... That’s on you for wasting time and resources.” Gerson rises, and goes to the very back where the Royal Guard has had a cache of armor and weapons for ages.

 

* * *

 

Three monsters crowded around a work table, the robotic parts that had been gathering dust on the wooden surface now gathering dust on the floor. With wide eyes and tense voices they poured over a spread of documents that still sunk of the cold air and mildew deep within the earth.

“Are you sure Flowey hasn't... _you know_.... yet?” The Royal Scientist asked meekly, finger under a line of writing she was rapidly translating from odd symbols to legible text.

“I'm more than sure. The kid’s practically made of iron! They’ve been able to beat any and every enemy that comes their way, why should this be any different? I bet-” The image of Frisk soaked in mud and tangled in vines clicks into her mind’s eye, her voice faltering. “I bet they’re ripping away all those vines and beating the sap outta that weed!” She grins ear to ear, fist pumped into the air.

Asgore looks away from the table, stomach turning as he read what Alphys had transcribed. He sets a cup of long cold tea down on the table, trying not to imagine what the other pages upon pages of symboled text said. Trying not to dwell on the fact he once greenlit these atrocities.

“Frisk is very brave. B-but... Maybe this... this isn’t something they can beat with- w-with a...” Alphys looks down, frantically translating the macabre text.

“That’s bull! I know Frisk! They’re unstoppable! They dodged my spears like a pro! They beat Mettaton without hitting him once!” The Captain kicks a discarded metal part as emphasis. “They- they’re-... They’re _invincible_! They can’t die! Not after what I’ve seen them survive!” Undyne clenches her fists, the look on her face a cross between begging and defiance.

The scientist looks up from her translations, misspelling what she’d been translating. “Er.... Undyne...” The Captain looks toward her, sitting down again.

“Yes, Alfi?” King Asgore chuckles at the nickname, and Undyne shoots him a look.

“Undyne... A-Are you sure you could do it?” She puts down her pen.

“Do what? Trim that degraded hedge and save the kid?” Undyne lets out half a laugh, smiling uneasily. “Of course I could! I have to! Frisk is my friend and they need my help! Heck, I bet the kid’s kicking Flowey’s grass right now! We’ll wrench open the doors and the kid’ll walk out like it was nothing!”

“...” Alphys pauses, then looks away with a guilty expression.

“...Alphys? Is... is there something you’re not telling me?” The Royal Scientist’s somber mood is infectious,

“Undyne...” Alphys looks down, wringing her hands. “W-w-w-well- well... It’s-s- It’s uh.... possible that...” She breaks out into a sweat. “I-I’m... not s-sure if Frisk i-i-is... If they can be saved?”

Undyne’s face fell, her guts shriveling up like raisins. “What?”

“Uuh-uh-uh... I-If the monster did the ‘right’- not really right in this situation, you know what I mean- but i-if they did certain things then... A-a-according to this... It might... H-have Frisk’s soul?”

The space is plunged into silence, guilt roiling in the warrior’s stomachs before one of them blew up in anger.

“H-he- They don’t! It doesn’t! End of story! They couldn’t have! Not if I can help it! I’m going to rescue Frisk, do you hear me?! They’re my friend, and I can’t fail them now!” Undyne barked, slamming her fist on the table. Alphys lets out a yelp, pulling away.

“ _Undyne!_ ” King Asgore snaps, holding his breath and exhaling slowly before continuing.

“...Undyne. I can clearly see how determined you are for this mission to be successful. That was always one of your best traits. And clearly you've taken inspiration from Papyrus’s unending hope and belief. I can only pray that together you two can succeed. And just to tip the scales in your favor...”

He rises, standing heads and shoulders over Undyne as he presents his gleaming red trident. “It’s... Still waiting for that final battle.”

Undyne’s eye lights up, jaw slackening as she rapidly looks from the trident, then to Asgore, then back to the trident. “I-I-I... my King! I won’t fail you! I swear I won’t fail you!” She excitedly reaches out before stopping at the last second, gingerly taking the trident. “Thank you, Your highness.” She bows as deeply as she can, making sure the trident didn’t hit anything.

“I wish for only the best results.” The King gave her a hopeful smile, chuckling as she nodded sharply, still dazed by the honor of receiving such a gift.

“ _I won’t fail you!_ ” She turns, starting off back toward the ferrier and back toward Papyrus.


End file.
